Pelle the Conqueror — Complete

by Martin Andersen Nexø

“That’s two troubles got rid of!” said Lasse when they went down to the stable again. “And did you notice how nicely I let her know that you were going to be confirmed? It was almost as if she’d found it out for herself. Now you’ll see, you’ll be as fine as a shop-boy in your clothes; people like the master and mistress know what’s needed when once they’ve opened their purse. Well, they got the whole truth straight, but confound it! they’re no more than human beings. It’s always best to speak out straight.” Lasse could not forget how well it had turned out.

Pelle let the old man boast. “Do you think I shall get leather shoes of them too?” he asked.

“Yes, of course you will! And I shouldn’t wonder if they made a confirmation-party for you too. I say they, but it’s her that’s doing it all, and we may be thankful for that. Did you notice that she said we—we shall, and so on—always? It’s nice of her, for he only lies there and eats and leaves everything to her. But what a good time he has! I think she’d go through fire to please him; but upon my word, she’s master there. Well, well, I suppose we oughtn’t to speak evil of any one; to you she’s like your own mother!”

Fru Kongstrup said nothing about the result of her drive to the parson; it was not her way to talk about things afterward. But Lasse and Pelle once more trod the earth with a feeling of security; when she took up a matter, it was as good as arranged.

One morning later in the week, the tailor came limping in with his scissors, tape-measure, and pressing-iron, and Pelle had to go down to the servants’ room, and was measured in every direction as if he had been a prize animal. Up to the present, he had always had his clothes made by guess-work. It was something new to have itinerant artisans at Stone Farm; since Kongstrup had come into power, neither shoemaker nor tailor had ever set foot in the servants’ room. This was a return to the good old farm-customs, and placed Stone Farm once more on a footing with the other farms. The people enjoyed it, and as often as they could went down into the servants’ room for a change of air and to hear one of the tailor’s yarns. “It’s the mistress who’s at the head of things now!” they said to one another. There was good peasant blood in her hands, and she brought things back into the good old ways. Pelle walked into the servants’ room like a gentleman; he was fitted several times a day.

He was fitted for two whole suits, one of which was for Rud, who was to be confirmed too. It would probably be the last thing that Rud and his mother would get at the farm, for Fru Kongstrup had carried her point, and they were to leave the cottage in May. They would never venture to set foot again in Stone Farm. Fru Kongstrup herself saw that they received what they were to have, but she did not give money if she could help it.

Pelle and Rud were never together now, and they seldom went to the parson together. It was Pelle who had drawn back, as he had grown tired of being on the watch for Rud’s continual little lies and treacheries. Pelle was taller and stronger than Rud, and his nature —perhaps because of his physical superiority—had taken more open ways. In ability to master a task or learn it by heart, Rud was also the inferior; but on the other hand he could bewilder Pelle and the other boys, if he only got a hold with his practical common sense.

On the great day itself, Karl Johan drove Pelle and Lasse in the little one-horse carriage. “We’re fine folk to-day!” said Lasse, with a beaming face. He was quite confused, although he had not tasted anything strong. There was a bottle of gin lying in the chest to treat the men with when the sacred ceremony was over; but Lasse was not the man to drink anything before he went to church. Pelle had not touched food; God’s Word would take best effect in that condition.

Pelle was radiant too, in spite of his hunger. He was in brand-new twill, so new that it crackled every time he moved. On his feet he wore elastic-sided shoes that had once belonged to Kongstrup himself. They were too large, but “there’s no difficulty with a sausage that’s too long,” as Lasse said. He put in thick soles and paper in the toes, and Pelle put on two pairs of stockings; and then the shoes fitted as if they had been cast for his foot. On his head he wore a blue cap that he had chosen himself down at the shop. It allowed room for growing, and rested on his ears, which, for the occasion, were as red as two roses. Round the cap was a broad ribbon in which were woven rakes, scythes, and flails, interlaced with sheaves all the way round.

“It’s a good thing you came,” said Pelle, as they drove up to the church, and found themselves among so many people. Lasse had almost had to give up thought of coming, for the man who was going to look after the animals while he was away had to go off at the last moment for the veterinary surgeon; but Karna came and offered to water and give the midday feed, although neither could truthfully say that they had behaved as they ought to have done to her.